


Gai Bal Manda

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU-Adoption, Child Soldiers, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Military Families, warrior culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc Hansen is a hardass mercenary on a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gai Bal Manda

**Author's Note:**

> "Gai bal manda" is the name for the super-short Mandalorian adoption ceremony. It means "name and soul." Anyone of any age can be (and are, if found worthy) adopted legally by one or more Mandalorian parents, even after death. Further translations in the end notes.

The kid was an orphan long before the Mandalorians came to his village. During the scouting trip, Herc had seen him crouching between buildings, huddled into the tiny space for warmth as the cold desert night grew darker. He was small and skinny, but his face was fierce. He'd been on his own for a while, and he looked like he knew how to take care of himself.

Herc hoped that the kid would survive. 

His remote village had been marked for destruction, for its supposed part in the uprising against the planetary government. The people were poor, but the politicians were rich, rich enough to afford Mandalorian mercenaries to enforce their will after crushing the uprising. This village, or its smoking remains, was to be a symbol of the new regime, a reminder to never fight again. 

Herc, personally, had no head for politics. He was simply following the money. It was just a job to him, one of many that he'd taken in his long years as a mercenary. Playing soldier for some city-dwelling, back-planet assholes was no different from collecting a bounty. 

All the same, he really hoped the kid would survive the slaughter.

As his soldiers spread out through the village, systematically clearing out house after house, he kept an eye out for the kid. When they approached the space where he had last seen him, Herc stayed outside, his eyes scanning the dark. He told himself it was to watch the progression of the flames. More than half the village was already on fire, and people were trying to scatter. He sniped a few villagers himself through the darkness, easily tracking their steps with the night vision in his helmet. 

It was a complete surprise when his leg suddenly collapsed in unexpected pain. He caught himself as he fell, his hand going down to the wound even as he reoriented his weapon to fire. 

Sparkling eyes and crooked teeth and more dirt than skin, but it was him. The kid. He held a tiny knife in his fist, the blade bloody and dripping. The little _di'kut_ had gotten the drop on him, stabbed him in the kriffing calf. When the kid snarled and made to charge again, Herc found himself laughing. 

He wrapped his arms around the child, lifting him completely off the ground. His little legs kicked and his knife slid harmlessly against Herc's armor, the blade shattering after a few too many attempts to stab him. The kid made to bite into Herc's crushgaunts, but he captured his jaw, keeping him from breaking his teeth on the _beskar_ -infused fabric. 

"Oi, stop it!"

"Let me go you monster! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" His legs started banging against Herc's thighplates, coming up in a wide arc to throw his entire body into the two-footed kick. 

Herc backed himself into the wall, taking some of the weight off his bleeding leg as he wrestled the little boy under control. 

" _Copaani gaan_ , Hansen?" _Need a hand?_

Herc looked up, catching sight of his second-in-command, fire painting her red armor orange as it flickered from the end of her thrower. Her faceplate was completely blank, but he could guess the expression that would be there--that she would be happy to burn the little bug off his armor if asked. Sasha only liked children when they were mando. The rest of the time, she could be heartless in battle. "Nah, I got 'm, Kaidonovsky."

The kid gave an almighty wiggle at that, nearly breaking loose from him. Herc scrambled quickly, getting him back under control. Sasha's dark laughter filled the night air, covering the screams of the dying. 

"Take over for me, here, huh?" Herc asked, restraining the boy against his chest. The job was nearly done, just some more houses and a bit of clean up. His presence wasn't really necessary. 

Sasha waved her hand, giving her thrower a couple squeezes to burst a fireball in the air. "Go. Get your leg treated." 

The kid was losing energy, his chest heaving and his heart almost bursting as his struggles weakened. Herc balanced the kid, placing most of their weight on his good leg as he limped back to his transport. It waited for him beyond the outskirts of the village. By the time he reached his speeder, the child was quiet and limp. It was easy to secure the kid to his speeder and take off into the darkness, letting the guidance system lead him back to his ship. 

The dark shape rose out of the desert like a sword, the pointed nose of _Striker Eureka_ jutting out over the dunes. It was an ugly bird, but it was his home. He secured the speeder in the hold and hitched the kid onto his hip. His leg was killing him, but at least the blood had stopped flowing. He dumped the kid onto a cot in the medbay before he slid off his helmet and started to strip out of his boots. He pulled away just enough armor to get to the flightsuit beneath, cutting away the fabric from the wound. 

The knife had been small, but the kid had managed to sink it in to the hilt, right in an unarmored spot. How had he snuck up on him? Devious little shit. Herc disinfected the wound, wrapped a bacta patch around it, and slid his foot back into his blood-soaked boot. He'd deal with the cleanup after they received the rest of their payment. 

He turned his attention completely to the little boy. He was unconscious still, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl that didn't weaken despite his sleep. Herc checked him over quickly for any weapons, then more slowly to check for wounds. He was covered in nits and had a nasty looking rash on the back of his neck, but otherwise the kid was unharmed. His skin was already filled with scars from a life lived on the streets. 

The kid couldn't have been more than 5 standard years old. He was tiny, malnourished. He was coated with dirt and stunk to high heaven. 

The kid reminded him of his little brother, when he was that age. Feral, angry, and a fighter. He missed Scott fiercely.

Eyes the same gray-green as Herc's armor opened. For a moment, the kid's expression was quizzical, confused, but then realization and fury took over his face. Herc deflected the punch that was aimed at his nose, catching the kid's wrists in one hand. 

"Easy now."

"Let me go!" 

Herc smiled. "You gonna stab me again?"

"I'll kill you with my bare hands!" His tiny voice was high pitched but articulate, and Herc mentally adjusted his age for the child for perhaps closer to 8. 

Herc shook his head. "Then why would I let you go?"

"You afraid of me, old man? I'll make you bleed!"

Herc laughed aloud at this. "Already did. How about, you stop fighting, and I give you something to eat?"

The kid looked suspicious, eyeing the larger man through squinted lids. "You're not gonna kill me?"

"I would have broken your neck back in that alley if I was, kid."

"Not a kid!"

"Pain in the arse, then."

"'m Chuck."

"You can call me Herc."

The kid snorted. "Sounds like puking."

Herc laughed loudly at that, resisting the urge to point out the obvious. Instead, he picked up the empty bacta canister. He held up his free hand, and showed off the enhanced grip of his crushgaunts by smashing the thick metal canister in his fist. The small boy's eyes grew wide as he dropped the flattened metal to the ground. "More like the noise a throat makes when I get my hands on it."

The kid started tugging on his hands, which were wrapped in Herc's other fist. He let the kid go, and wasn't surprised when he didn't fight anymore. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

The suspicion didn't leave his grungy face. "No touching!" He scooted back on the cot, his arms wrapping around his legs protectively as he pulled his body away from Herc.

'Oh, kid, no,' Herc thought to himself. He felt a rush of fury flow through him as he realized what the child meant. He knew what could go on among undisciplined civilians, especially during war, but he could never understand anyone hurting a child like that. If the village hadn't already been in flames, he would have ordered his men to burn it down again. Scum like that didn't deserve to live. 

"Listen, Chuck, no one will touch you or hurt you, here. You have my word." 

The kid didn't look any more trusting, but he seemed to ease a little bit. He looked tired, starved, damaged, and Herc's heart melted just a little more when he nodded. 

"C'mon. I've got some _gihaal_ and rations in the cockpit. We can watch the village burn." 

Something sparked in the kid's eyes, and he slid off the cot. "Okay." 

******

The kid certainly didn't like the dried fishmeal, but he took to the nutrient bars like a natural soldier, stuffing his cheeks with huge bites of the rough-textured rations. He washed it down with big gulps of water from the canteen Herc provided. Herc, for his part, stuck to the _gihaal_ , taking delight in the faces the kid made every time he took a bite of his own. _Gihaal_ was an acquired taste, fatty and rich, but it smelled like dead fish. He wasn't surprised the kid would turn up his nose after a taste; living in the desert, he probably didn't see much by way of fish. 

The distant sky was orange with flames, the smoke obscuring the stars. Chuck asked several times if Herc was sure the village was completely gone. In the end, he wound up showing the kid some of the recorded footage on his helmet. The video would be used as propaganda for the government to keep its people frightened and subdued. Watching the boy sit there with a Mandalorian helmet on just seemed right, but it was far too big for the tiny guy. He'd have to get armor that was sized just for the brat.

Herc shook that thought out of his head. The kid wasn't his. He was just keeping him safe.

When he lifted the heavy helmet off the kid's head, Chuck looked delighted at the destruction. They watched the distant flames, chewing silently and sharing the canteen. The hold cam flickered on the console, showing a dark figure stalking up the ramp. Herc tapped a button, turning off the security measures to let Sasha climb aboard safely. She could probably disarm them given enough time, but it was just easier to let the mercenary on board.

The kid looked apprehensive, distrustful, when she came in with her helmet on. Herc gestured for her to take it off, offering her a bit of the gihaal. 

She snorted as she tucked her helmet under her arm. "You know I hate that shit." 

Chuck grinned widely. "You're a lady?"

The helmet audio tended to make all the mandos sound the same, but still, Herc had to laugh at the kid's incredulous tone. 

"I'm a Mandalorian," she snarled. "Herc, you don't teach this kid anything?"

"I just got him some food, Sasha. I haven't adopted him." 

She sniffed. "Why not?" Before Herc could say anything in response, she crouched low, balancing effortlessly on her toes as she came face-to-face with the boy. She swiped a broken ration bar from his stash. "Mandalorians can be anyone, anything. We don't care where you come from, just how well you fight."

"And she fights hard, kid." 

Sasha gave him a fierce smile as she stood. "And dirty." She flicked her fingers, showing off the vidchip filled with frightening footage of people dying and buildings burning. "We done here?"

Herc held out his hand and waited for her to place the chip in his palm. "Just gotta get paid. Have the boys gather their stuff, get ready for takeoff." 

Sasha nodded at her leader, then spared a short nod for the little boy. Once she decided a cub was worth her time, she all but adopted them into the family. It wasn't a surprise at how her attitude had changed towards the little terror. 

"What do you say, kid. Want to go get paid?"

Chuck shoved a large piece of ration in his mouth, and nodded. 

Herc wanted to ruffle his hair, but he curbed the urge. Instead he smiled, and showed Chuck how to takeoff. 

*******

The man and the boy walked through gilded halls lined with shimmersilk, two ragged figures utterly out of place. The kid looked around with solemn eyes, suspiciously watching guards and running his grubby hands over the shining surfaces. There was more money here than the kid would have likely seen in a hundred lifetimes on the streets of his village, but he wasn't impressed by the show. Behind his helmet, Herc was making the same assessment--useless waste by a _nibral_ with more money than sense. 

Herc didn't make a move to stop Chuck from leaving streaks of dirt and muck across everything he touched. His own steps left clear bootprints on the expensive carpets, a mixture of blood and sand. Before entering the governor's opulent office, he took a moment to wipe off his boots, grinding the soil deep into the rug. There was a small twinge of pain from his wound, but it was mostly healed by the bacta, enough that he didn't even limp as he walked anymore.

The governor was angry when Herc was trailed into his office by the scruffy boy. "You were supposed to destroy the whole village. Not a single life spared, bounty hunter, you promised!"

Herc slapped the vidchip on the governor's desk. "We fulfilled our part of the deal. The evidence is right here." 

"The evidence is right _there_ ," the man shrieked, pointing at Chuck. "You think I don't know my own people?"

"Frankly, I'm surprised you ever looked any of them in the eyes." He kept his tone even, letting the vocalizer leech out the last of any emotion from his voice. "I want our payment."

"No more credits until the job is finished, bounty hunter! I want you to kill that thing immediately." 

Herc bit down on his back teeth, his jaw clenching hard. The governor could see nothing of his reactions, so he continued to sneer at the boy. 

"The boy isn't part of the deal. The job is done," Herc growled, and this time, some of the anger bled through. 

The governor turned back to Herc, his eyes scanning all over the helmet as though he didn't know where to look. "Half-done. You'll only get half your credits, bounty hunter." He sank into his cushiony chair, pulling out a stack of untraced Republic credits. It was barely half the promised fee. "Until that thing is dead, Kloa village is still alive."

Herc took in a breath, held it, then released it slowly between his teeth. He looked down at Chuck, who had his eyes narrowed and his body aimed for the door. Whichever way the deal went, the kid was ready to run. A survivor, through and through. 

Herc reached out with a single hand, grasping the governor by the throat. The reactive mechanisms in the crushgaunt augmented his own considerable strength, making it an easy task to dig his fingers into the skin and wrap them around the man's trachea. A gurgling noise escaped his lips, along with a line of blood. Herc held him until the life completely drained from his eyes, then he tossed the corpse to the side. 

It was easy enough to rip open the desk, shredding the opulently decorated metal with his gloves to find the rest of the governor's stash. He stacked the credits on top of the desk. In total, it was more than the originally agreed price, which was fine by Herc. His boys had earned the bonus. 

Chuck stared at the corpse for a little bit, but was quick to scramble on top of the desk, stacking credits into his little arms. 

"Ya not thinking of stealing from me, are you?" Herc asked, smiling wide and freely because he knew the kid would never be able to see it through his helmet. 

He stopped stacking credits and bit his lip. "Just helping, is all." 

Herc nodded, "Don't drop 'em." With a blink at his HUD, Herc switched to his internal mic, connecting to his soldiers' comlink. "We're running hot, boys. Give me five, then we're out."

Whoops and cheers greeted him through the com, the noise of mandos geared up from war and ready to blow out of the backwards planet. Many of them had family around the galaxy, little ones too young to fight or partners guarding their land. Sasha's partner, Aleksis, was taking care of their brood, and he knew she was eager to return. With the cash from this deal, she'd finally be able to buy up that lot she'd been eyeing back at Mandalore, maybe start up their own smithy. 

Herc cut off the noise, refocusing his gaze on the room. Chuck had quite a lot of the money bundled in his arms, balanced against his grimy shirt. Herc swept most of the rest into the various pockets of his suit. He left only a few in his hands, enough visible between them to show the guards that he'd been paid and that his client was alive and happy. 

Herc hadn't even bothered to wipe the blood off his gloves. 

Chuck jumped down from the desk, his steps a little wobbly as he kept a careful eye on the credits in his hands. Herc wanted to pat the little guy, tell him he did a good job, but he put that instinct in check. 

"Let's go."

*****

Fire streaked the heavens as the Mandalorians escaped the atmosphere and into the cold blackness of space. The body had been discovered a little faster than Herc had anticipated, but a few well-placed missiles had scattered the guards enough to let Herc and Chuck escape to the _Eureka._

Chuck cheered as they leveled out into the starry darkness, the other ships just glints of metal moving against the patterned background. Already, the commandos were signaling their routes, everyone heading a different way to the rendezvous point in a far away system. There, they'd split the credits and part. The boys did good, and they could use some time with their families. 

Herc waited until only he and Sasha remained. No ships had taken off from the surface just yet. Either the police force was too busy, or too scared. Herc connected to Sasha's ship, his voice steady across the kilometers that separated them. He already had his helmet off, and he spoke loudly so Chuck could listen. "Got a little extra in the basket, for having to deal with such a _hut'uun_." 

Sasha's laugh was rich and strong, bouncing off the walls of the cockpit like an avenging god. "I take it you mean more than your _ad'ika_."

Herc cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable at the easy way Sasha referred to Chuck as his son. "I'll give you the whole story at the rezpoint, Kaidonovsky."

He cut the coms before she could comment further. Her ship disappeared in a point of light, and Herc prepared to initiate the hyperdrive. 

"What does ' _hut'uun_ ' mean?" a little voice asked. 

Herc turned in his seat to see Chuck sitting in the middle of the cockpit, stacks of credits built up like walls around him. He seemed focused on moving credits between the towers, but Herc knew the kid was watching him from the corner of his eye. 

"It's a mando term. Means coward."

Chuck nodded his head, his lips forming the word again silently. Before Herc could turn back to the controls, Chuck asked, "What does ' _ad'ika_ ' mean?"

Herc swallowed. "Kid." It wasn't a lie; the term itself meant many things, but the way that Sasha had used it had made her meaning clear. 

Chuck nodded his head, his fingers moving over the piles of money. Herc studied him for a minute. The kid was smart, strong. He'd survived on his own and could put up a fight. There were worse fates in this galaxy than growing up a soldier. Some of those fates, the kid had already experienced.

"Chuck." The kid looked surprised, his green-gray eyes meeting Herc's directly. "Come here." 

The kid stood carefully, being sure to not knock over the towers he'd built with their pay. He walked over to Herc, standing just outside his reach. 

Herc stripped the crushgaunts from his hands, tucking them into his belt so they were out of the way. Beneath the fabric and metal, his own skin was calloused. "May I see your hand?" he asked carefully, laying out his own bare palm. He could imagine contexts where the child would refuse, but Chuck seemed to trust him, a little. 

The kid put his dirty hand into Herc's palm. His fingers were scarred. The back of his hand had marks from knifefights. His knuckles were covered with scabs. His nails were bitten and rough. So small, and already a soldier in so many ways. The decision was easy--as though it were already made. Herc looked the kid in the eyes, and stated plainly, " _Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_ , Chuck Hansen."

Chuck scrunched his face. "What does that mean?"

"'I know your name as my son,' _ner ad'ika_."

Chuck frowned, his mind working the words over in his head. " _Ad'ika_ means son?"

" _Ner ad'ika_ ," Herc corrected. "My son. Chuck Hansen."

Chuck's fingers twitched in Herc's hand. "Hansen." He tasted the word, and seemed to like it a lot more than the _gihaal_. "Chuck and Herc Hansen."

"Yes," Herc said. 

Chuck smiled at him, then pointed to the stars. "We're gonna be late."

"You haven't seen this bird fly, yet. Hold on, _ad'ika_." Herc punched the hyperdrive, his laughter lost in Chuck's excited screams.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I love Herc and Chuck as biological relatives (I certainly don't have a problem with incest in fic), but for some reason this story popped into my brain the moment I connected [Pacific Rim to Star Wars](http://elekdragon.tumblr.com/post/124153854705/was-i-the-only-one-thinking-this). 
> 
> Mando'a translations: 
> 
> Ad'ika: Little child, often used to refer to a son or daughter. (Mando'a is a gender-neutral language.)  
> Beskar: Mandalorian iron, harder than cortosis. A lightsaber can't penetrate it. Only available on Mandalore, forged by specially trained mandos.  
> "Copaani gaan?": Do you want a hand?  
> Di'kut: an insult.  
> Gihaal: Dried fishmeal, sort of like pemmican. Smells nasty, but lasts for years.  
> Hut'uun: Coward (derived from "hutt")  
> Ner: Mine, my.  
> Nibral: Loser, failure.  
> "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad": All you need to say to legally adopt someone in the Mandalorian culture. It is literally, "I keep until the end your name like my child." They are part of your family, name and soul.


End file.
